


On Bad Days

by hannah_baker



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: College AU, Depression/Anxiety, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, non-hockey au, suicide mentions though no characters are suicidal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 09:40:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16015292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannah_baker/pseuds/hannah_baker
Summary: Tyler wanted to see if he could handle his life without his antidepressants. Jordie is witness to proof that he cannot.





	On Bad Days

**Author's Note:**

> Tyler is dealing with the super fun journey of living with clinical depression/anxiety, and Jordie is a nice bit of comfort in that rough spot. Jordie isn't the solution to his problems, but it's nice to have someone, yanno? 
> 
> Sometimes the shit I write is straight up autobiographical, and this is a pretty strong contribution to that column. Cause sometimes you feel like shit and all you want is a hug from Jordie Benn. Shrug emoji. 
> 
> ***Yo, if you need to know, Tyler isn't suicidal in this, but it's mentioned that he felt that way as a teenager (and cut as a teen). If you need it, the national suicide prevention hotline is 1-800-273-8255 <3 take care of yourselves, I love you.
> 
> LMK if I missed warning for anything.

Tyler had a persona to keep up, and the neurochemicals in his brain were not helping.

 

He was peppy, upbeat, excited, outgoing. People came to him when they wanted to have fun. But it had been years since he’d been off his antidepressants, and honestly, he just wanted to know what his body felt like again without them. He wanted to know how his brain worked when he wasn’t pumping in store bought chemicals.

 

He wasn’t diluted. He knew that he needed some help in the neurochemical arena. He hadn’t exactly tried to kill himself, but he covered his arms in tattoos as quickly as possible for a reason. He had scars to hide. And he was grateful the the drugs helped keep him balanced, seeing clear-ish, most of the time.

 

The optimism that had brought him here, in the halls of Old Main, far enough away from his Sociology capstone class so that no one would hear him, crying into his hands — that was the optimism that made him think that he didn’t need those drugs. And maybe the optimism was wrong.

  
It was his senior year, and he just wanted to see if he could do it on his own before he needed to start job searching. There was nothing more stressful than job searching. But apparently, missing a deadline for his Sociology thesis was pretty stressful. His hours on grounds crew changing was stressful. His roommate dropping out so he had to room with a rando was stressful. The fact that they stopped having low-fat ranch dressing in the cafeteria was stressful.

 

Tyler thought he remembered the buzz of anxiety that used to fill him up, full to the brim with everything that could go wrong. Too many feelings for that much space, no matter how much taller he grew. He could feel it in his hands the most, unsteady as he held a pen, as he pushed a lawnmower over grassy areas on campus. Unsteady as he got his credit card out to pay for the coffee he needed to stay awake during the day, since he couldn’t sleep at night.

 

He paced a weird spot in that old building, a bit of a hallway that led off to a women’s restroom that had been out of order since last school year. It was quiet, and private, especially at night, during his capstone class that was happening on the other side of the crumbling cube of academic building he was standing in. He could see where the carpet was pulling up and stretching out from use. The layers of paint on the ornate moldings. He tried to focus on details instead of the feelings inside of him.

  
“Ty,” a voice came, steady and deep, from the other end of the hall. Tyler looked up to see Jordie, a fifth-year senior who was the student supervisor of grounds crew. Tyler was friends with him the way he was friends with all of the grounds crew student workers. Friendly, but casually, with a strong streak of community that was built around a common job.

 

Tyler’s face burned with embarrassment, and he turned a little away from Jordie to wipe his face on the sleeve of his UNT hoodie. Jordie was a Tough Guy, more brawns than brain, working a little slowly on a degree in business. He was getting tripped up because he was running a business of his own - he’d started a landscaping company up two summers ago. He’d called Tyler over summer break to see if he wanted to come down early, earn a little easy money manicuring lawns in the towns near campus. Tyler hadn’t been able to leave Toronto. He’d had a doctor’s appointment to go to a few days before classes started.

 

“Um, hey, just getting some air,” Tyler said, trying to make his voice steady and even. He’d been good at that in high school, but he was rusty now. He didn’t know where that easy confidence he’d had in the first few years of college went, and whether that was actually a part of him, or just a weird side effect of the drugs. There were so many weird side effects.

 

“You doing okay?” Jordie had that look on his face like he wanted to fix something. Tyler had seen it before, usually focused at a lawn mower or a leaf blower though. He’d never seen it directed at him.

 

“Yeah, I’m um,” Tyler started, and felt his hands shake. The thought of going back into his classroom, even though there were almost two hours left of his three-hour-long night class, was...impossible. He couldn’t go back in. He’d taken his notebook with him when he’d left. It was all he’d brought with him. He thanked his forethought. He took a breath. There had been substantially more “calming breath” YouTube videos on his laptop halfway through the fall semester of his senior year than in any other year previous. “I need to get out of here.”

 

“Let me buy you dinner,” Jordie offered. His hands had been stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, his flannel open to a steel gray t-shirt under, as he’d moseyed down the hallway toward Tyler. Tyler had barely noticed that he’d come closer. But when Tyler nodded, Jordie pulled his hands from his pockets and pulled Tyler into a hug.

 

Jordie was just brawny, and Tyler wondered if that was what made the hug good, or if it was the pressure — the way Jordie pulled him just barely closer right before he let go. Either way, Tyler lingered a split second too long against Jordie after their hug. Long enough for Jordie to paw at Tyler’s backward baseball cap, and tug him back down the hall with an arm around his neck.

 

The night air was too hot for Tyler’s Canadian tastes. Tyler wanted to walk into an industrial, commercial grade refrigerator. The cold calmed him, settled something inside of him, like the very atoms of his makeup needed to vibrate at a slower frequency.

 

“You look like you need pancakes,” Jordie said. He’d dropped the arm around Tyler’s shoulder when they’d reached Old Main’s slim staircases, but Jordie had stayed close. His speaking voice was low and quiet, and maybe that helped settle Tyler a little, even without the crisp night he’d been hoping for.

 

“Pancakes sound...really good,” Tyler said honestly. He had a couple hot pockets back in his dorm, but pancakes sounded much better. Especially if Jordie was paying for them.

 

“They’re my go-to bad day meal,” Jordie explained, herding Tyler a little to go west, toward iHop. The walk was short, and the place, at this time of night, was full of college students. The host pulled out two giant laminated menus — one sheet front and back, instead of folded into a little book, like a reasonable restaurant - and led them to a table amidst the chaos.

 

“Can we actually grab a quieter spot?” Jordie asked, looking at the disorganized mass of people. There was one table where a girl was crying, literally crying tears, mumbling about losing her paper, and how she should have emailed it to herself, and Tyler didn’t want to sit by that. He’d never asked for a different table than the one he’d been assigned, and when the host led them to an empty section, Tyler couldn’t help the heart eyes he shot at Jordie.

 

“I didn’t know you could do that.” He said, his menu taking up almost half of their small table.

 

“I don’t make it a common practice,” Jordie said. “The host seemed kind of put out. I’ll tip the waitress like, 40%.”

 

“Then why bother?”

 

“You looked like you needed a break from that chaos.” Tyler could only nod. “So what’s up? Bad grade on a test? Pissed off a teacher you really needed to get to like you?”

 

“Just...stressed.” Tyler said. He hated talking about his mental health in front of people. Especially people like Jordie who seemed like they had their emotions pretty buttoned up. “Anxious,” he added. People tended to be more receptive to talking about anxiety than depression. He cast the word out into their conversation and watched it float, like a lure.

 

He got a bite. “Like, clinical? Or like, situational?” Jordie had these huge, soft brown eyes, and Tyler had never noticed how kind they were. He’d noticed Jordie before, no doubt. He was broad and built and gorgeous. But Tyler had always kind of assumed that his appeal ended there. Tyler didn’t think he would be interested in a business major, honestly. He didn’t know Jordie knew these words.

 

“Clinical,” Tyler said, cautiously.

 

“Bad brain chemistry day?” Jordie guessed, his shoulders leaning over the table, close to Tyler.

 

Their waitress plunked down waters and plastic straws on their table. “Anything else to drink?” she asked. She wasn’t exactly being rude, but she also wasn’t reading the temperature of the table very well.

 

Jordie looked to Tyler. “Coke,” Tyler said, robotically. Coke always made things better for him.

 

“Me too,” Jordie said, eyes still on Tyler.

 

The waitress left, and Jordie’s eyes were still on Tyler. “You wanna talk about it?”

 

“Not especially, outside of the fact that I’m so anxious I’m making myself feel sick.”

 

“Then I won’t make you talk.” Jordie did this easily, like he talked people down from anxiety cliffs daily. Tyler’s eyes, primed from already crying a little in Old Main, leaked a few more tears out. It was always easier to cry when you had been crying. He hated the hot feeling of tears, almost sticky on his face. The hot feeling of embarrassment out of doing this in front of Jordie, who wasn’t his boss, but was still his supervisor at work.

 

Jordie’s thumbs, careful but sure on Tyler’s cheeks, brushed the tears off.

 

“So you talk,” Tyler said, ducking his face out of Jordie’s hands. He missed the warmth when they were gone, and regretted his shame. He wished he could have let Jordie hold his face in his hands for as long as he wanted to. “You haven’t really told me about your business in a while.”

 

Jordie smiled, and Tyler saw a face that was friendlier than he’d ever given Jordie credit for before. And proud. “Saved up enough for the equipment, had my sister build me a website. Spent a little on Facebook advertising. I have four guys and a truck, and I didn't make any money last year, but I just started to this year.” He looked so happy talking about his small slice of this world, and Tyler couldn’t, in that moment, think of one thing on earth that would make him smile like that. He twisted his fingers — pretty literally wrang his hands, until Jordie pulled them apart, and this time, Tyler let Jordie decide when to break contact, because losing this this time wouldn’t be his fault.

 

The waitress came back and took their orders. Jordie ordered a stack of buttermilk pancakes and a side of hash browns, and Tyler just said “same,” because he hadn’t looked at the giant menu, and then it was gone, and Tyler couldn’t manage a smile over that either.

 

Jordie still hadn’t let go of his hands.

 

“You’re from Canada, right?” Jordie asked, and when Tyler nodded, Jordie lulled him into a soft quiet daze talking about the Toronto Maple Leafs, which were a bit of a comfort blanket for Tyler, and how Jordie knew that he’d never understand.

 

Their pancakes came, and Tyler was almost mad at them because it meant that Jordie took his hands back to eat, but then he took a bite and realized that these dumb soft fluffy sweet pancakes were exactly what he wanted to eat. And the hash browns were greasy and crispy. And Tyler didn’t at all regret skipping class, even though he was already dreading the email he would need to write to his professor when he got back to his dorm.

 

He relaxed a little as Jordie’s focus drifted more toward his own pancakes, and Tyler’s chest unwound a little. Not a lot, but enough to let his heart rate slow. Enough to let his body know that he wasn’t having an emergency.

 

“You’re doing better,” Jordie said, making that “I need to fix this” face once more. He looked cute with a furrowed brow, which Tyler could recognize as progress. Once he started being in the mood to think about the ways boys were cute, it usually meant the worst had passed. He didn’t feel good. But he felt better than he had when he’d left his classroom earlier that night.

 

“How do you know that?” Tyler asked, honestly wondering. These feelings, this neurotransmitter crash he was trying to pretend he was just fine through, was new to him again. He was only beginning to remember how to deal with his shit without drugs (oh my god existing was so much work), and Jordie was here just...knowing.

 

“You’re not shaking anymore. You were jittering all over the place when I found you, when we sat down.”

 

Tyler wasn’t shaking anymore. He didn’t need to hold his hand up at a flat plane to see that they weren’t shaking either. He didn’t have the rush of adrenaline and cortisol running through his blood urging him to act - to fight or flee. He had some food in his stomach.

 

“I guess pancakes were the right decision,” Tyler said, looking up once more to meet Jordie’s eyes. He just looked patient.

 

“You have a good place to go after this? You’re in the dorms, right? Is your roommate home?”

 

“I’m not going to kill myself,” Tyler said, rolling his eyes. He hadn’t been seriously suicidal since he’d been fifteen or sixteen.

 

“Regardless,” Jordie said, rolling his eyes right back at Tyler. “I don’t want you to be alone.”

 

“Jeremy’s got work until midnight at security,” Tyler confessed.

 

“Well, that’s no good. You want to come over to my place? I have a pile of DVDs that need to be watched, and a really comfy couch to crash on. And Juice. You’ve met Juice, right?” Everyone had met Jordie’s dog, Juice. He hung out on the back of the golf-cart things they used to haul equipment around campus in the summers, sometimes wearing Jordie’s sunglasses. Stupid name, awesome dog.

 

“You had me at ‘Juice,’” Tyler said, as Jordie left cash to pay their tab.

 

Jordie lived off campus, in an apartment in sort of a bad neighborhood. But he lived alone, which he said was good since he usually woke up so early. It was almost nine by the time they walked back to campus to grab Jordie’s pickup and drove back to his place. Jordie left Tyler to pick out a DVD while he took Juice out to pee, and Tyler sifted through the stack Jordie had on the bookshelf by the TV. A whole bookshelf, and barely four books on it. That was fine with Tyler. He wasn’t exactly a big reader himself.

 

He picked a teen zombie movie and a suspenseful space thriller before Jordie got back, and waited on the couch. He used the minutes to hammer out an email to his professor on his phone. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t going to be perfect, and he could either let his anxiety build back up over it or just hit send. He hit send.

 

When Jordie came back, Juice curled up on the couch next to Tyler. Jordie picked the space thriller and stretched his arm over the back of the couch as they settled into the credits.

 

Tyler was surprised by Jordie’s apartment. It was small — teeny even, but it was clear he used his kitchen. There were blankets on the couch, and Tyler pulled on over himself (and Juice). There wasn’t much on the walls, but it was homey, the mismatched furniture looking well worn but not gross, and comfortable. The air conditioning kept the space cool, and Tyler settled into watching the movie. He thought he’d feel weirder at Jordie’s place. He’d never been there, and it’s not like they were buddies or anything. Except now, maybe they were.

 

Jordie shot off some emails of his own during the movie, but always put his arm back above Tyler on the couch.

 

“So how long can you survive in space for real without any oxygen?” Jordie asked, leaning closer into Tyler. The movie was predictable, but Tyler appreciated that. He didn’t want to have to pay too close attention to this. He was paying more attention to how nice it was that Juice had his face in Tyler’s lap, his face relaxed and stupid because Tyler was petting his ears.

 

Tyler was wondering how long he’d survive on earth without oxygen. He felt like his tank was getting low. “I have no idea, and I’m not ruining this dumb movie by researching.”

 

Jordie laughed, shifting closer to him. His hand smoothed Tyler’s hair, bare from his hat since the backward brim prevented him from properly melting into the couch. “True, no need to ruin a good thing.” He slid his arm around Tyler’s shoulders. He was being so nice to Tyler, for no reason other than he found Tyler alone and sad.

 

“Why were you in Old Main tonight?” Tyler asked. “There’s like, no classes there on Thursday nights except ours.”

 

“One of my study groups met there. Our professor hooked us up with one of those awkwardly small classrooms.”

 

“Well, thanks, I guess,” Tyler said. “I don’t think I covered that one yet.”

 

“No thanks necessary,” Jordie said, giving his shoulders a squeeze.

 

They let the movie play through the end as the main character somehow brazenly survived the uncaring vacuum of space. The credits rolled over a black screen, and Jordie stood up from the couch. They hadn’t really been cuddling. Tyler and Juice were cuddling for sure though. “You okay with the couch tonight?” he asked, and Tyler nodded. He expected to shove his face into this kind of doggy second-hand couch and survive the night. But Jordie pulled sheets out of somewhere, and a blanket and pillow, and he asked Tyler about when he needed to be back on campus the next day while he made up the couch as a bed for him.

 

He gave Tyler a new toothbrush to use, and some sweats and a t-shirt to sleep in. Tyler had seen Jordie in this shirt — the way it clung to his shoulders and back. It hung on Tyler, but that was okay. It was just pajamas for the night. Plus, he wasn’t under any delusion that he and Jordie had even similar body types, once you got past “male.”

 

He tucked himself into his couch bed as Jordie got ready for bed, the soft, domestic sounds of the day ending triggering a relief in Tyler’s brain. He felt safe at Jordie’s apartment, where his school work didn’t live, where he didn’t have emotional baggage and a roommate who had such a profoundly weird schedule that he woke Tyler up no matter when Tyler was sleeping. Just the sound of Juice’s nails on the hardwood as he walked into Jordie’s room, the sound of Juice making himself at home on Jordie’s bed.

 

“You’ll be okay?” Jordie asked, one more time. Ready-for-bed Jordie apparently didn’t wear a shirt, and Tyler let himself soak Jordie up a little before nodding. Jordie went and got him a glass of water from the kitchen anyway, and set it on the coffee table. “Alright, I’ll be up at six, then,” and Tyler nodded his consent.  
  
\--

 

The days that passed after, the Friday and the Saturday were a little easier for Tyler. He had received a very caring email back from his capstone professor. He had light classes on Fridays, and a nice long morning shift on Saturday, where all he did was mow the long grassy banks of the school’s yard that ran along the sidewalks to the outside world on the ride on mower. Being on campus always felt like a safe bubble, which may have been why he chose to stay on campus through his senior year, even though so many of his friends were living off.

 

When he got back to the storage building that grounds crew worked out of, Jordie was sitting at the little desk, lit with shitty yellow light, sifting through time cards. Juice was at his feet.

 

“Oh, hey,” he said, voice soft when he saw Tyler. He set down what he was clearly still right in the middle of in order to lie. “I’m just about done here, if you’re wrapping up. Do you want to get some lunch?”

 

Tyler parked the lawn mower in its spot in the garage, and hopped off of it, brushing grass shavings off his clothes.

 

“I’d like a shower first if you don’t mind.” Lawn mowing in Texas heat doesn’t make anyone smell good enough for company. Jordie nodded, and they agreed Tyler would text when he was done, and they’d make plans. Tyler made sure to scratch behind Juice’s ears before he left.

 

By the time Tyler got done with his shower and put on clean clothes, Jordie was already waiting outside his dorm, leaning against his pickup truck. Tyler wasn’t generally into the kinds of guys who drove pickup trucks, but being in Texas meant that he really needed to compromise on that requirement in order to...know anyone. Jordie’s t-shirt was the kind he wore a lot when he had grounds crew shifts — the arms cut off, torn down the sides, so his lats showed. Tyler wasn’t mad.

 

Jordie smiled at him, ran his hand down Tyler’s bare arm, and got back into his truck. Juice was in the back, on a towel spread out over the upholstery. Juice always exuded the kind of ease of being that Tyler dreamed that he could have. Maybe in his next life, he’d come back as a dog that someone loved as much as Jordie loved his dog. One could be so lucky.

 

“I was kind of thinking that maybe we could eat at my place and take Juice on a walk? Kind of forgot I had him when I invited you to lunch.”

 

“Sounds better than going out somewhere,” Tyler said, honestly. Jordie looked over to him, as they got on the highway toward Jordie’s apartment, like he was sussing out how Tyler was feeling. As his eyes drifted back toward the road and where he was driving, his hand came to rest on Tyler’s knee, and stayed there until Jordie parked in his spot, marked by his apartment number, in the lot behind his building. Tyler’s skin burned hot when Jordie took his hand away, leaving the skin bare once more.

 

Jordie let Juice off his leash before they even got into the building, and Juice took his spot next to Jordie as they walked down the hallway to Jordie’s door, leaving Tyler to catch their wake. The shirt Jordie was wearing really highlighted how broad his shoulders were, the neat peak of hair that came out the back of his Yankees cap, a sharp, maroon point. His hair was so dark red that Tyler might assume he was a brunette if he didn’t have the scratchy start of a red beard and the freckles.

 

Jordie’s apartment was familiar to him now, the compact layout a known quantity. Jordie left his shoes on, but Tyler slipped his off at the door, the polite Canadian in him too weirded out by wearing shoes in the house to let himself do it. Juice went straight to the couch and curled into a little ball on a blanket for a nap, and Jordie opened his fridge.

 

He pulled out a litany of sandwich fixings. Turkey and roast beef, chipotle mayo, three kinds of cheese, some crisp leaves of lettuce that had obviously been pre-prepped and zipped into a ziplock bag. The small amount of counter space in his little kitchen was dominated by sandwich options.

 

“Is this weird?” Jordie said, turning back around to Tyler. His eyes were wide, nervous.

 

“Is what weird? The fact that you like mayonnaise? I guess I can forgive that.”

 

“No, I mean this. Hanging out now.”

 

“I guess I’ve thought about why you would want to hang out with me —”

 

“Ty,” Jordie said, cutting off Tyler’s doubts, his name suddenly a sweet diminutive. Not many people in his life called him Ty, but Jordie had decided to, had called him that in the hallway of Old Main nights ago, and it bloomed something small but strong in his heart. Like Jordie had decided that they would be close enough for nicknames, right off the bat.

 

“It’s not weird. It’s…” Tyler searched for what it was, but it was hard to think this close to Jordie, the two of them maxing out the space in the kitchen, Jordie close by necessity. Tyler had to look up to look into his eyes. He landed on, “I like it.”

 

Jordie closed the distance between them slowly, eyes searching, waiting for any reaction from Tyler. His fingertips skimmed Tyler’s sides, then his hands settled. Jordie’s hands were big and warm, and Tyler reacted without thinking, his hands coming to rest on Jordie’s arms. Jordie leaned down enough to rest his forehead against Tyler’s. They created this small cocoon of themselves, of fresh new feelings they held between them, of the knowledge that Tyler wasn’t okay.

 

Tyler was the one to tip his head up, the one to press his lips to Jordie’s. He wrapped his arms around Jordie’s neck, skin still sun warm and soft. Their kiss wasn't crazy or dramatic or consuming. It was slow and soft, and Tyler blushed when Jordie groaned and pulled him closer, their kiss finishing reluctantly, breaking into shorter little kisses.

 

“Is this okay with you?” Jordie asked, even though Tyler had started it, and Tyler could only nod, his face close to Jordie’s still, close enough to kiss him again.

 

When the kiss broke this time, Jordie smoothed his hands down Tyler’s sides and pulled away for real. “I'm going to make you the best sandwich ever,” he vowed, putting bread in for toast and shooing Tyler out of the kitchen. It wasn't a hard feat. Tyler only had like, two steps to go before he wasn't there anymore.

 

He sat next to Juice on the couch and smiled to himself, feeling Jordie's gaze flit his way every few seconds. When the sandwiches were done, Jordie brought them into the living room, and Tyler watched as Juice made himself a presence while Jordie ate his. He never went for the food. Jordie just said he wanted to be a part of it. Tyler had never had a dog before who wouldn't basically maul you for whatever you were eating. He was a little impressed.

 

Tyler’s sandwich was better than what he would have eaten at his own dorm obviously, but also better than going out to eat. Jordie had made that sandwich special for him, which wasn't what he had experienced before, in terms of boys who had been, for lack of a better word, courting him.

 

They took Juice on a long walk around the neighborhood, and Tyler soaked up the sun, trying to get all the Vitiman D he could get. He knew he had seasonal affective issues, and he was glad knowing that Texas had been a good option for him. This time in Toronto if he wanted to be outside he'd be so bundled up that he couldn't feel the sun on his skin anyway.

 

Jordie easily slipped his hand into Tyler’s as they lazily ambled around, no real destination in sight. Tyler was feeling that nervous butterfly thing again. He liked Jordie. He _liked_ him. Tyler hadn’t liked a boy in a while. He wasn’t a wounded dove or anything. However, he’d had a bad breakup over the summer, and it had soured him to the idea of dating. Now, he couldn’t remember the name of the guy he’d been dating even was.

 

“It’s my little brother,” Jordie said, after a bit of a pause. “The reason I recognized your symptoms. He’s had depression forever. It looks the same on your face as it does on his.”

 

“And you still wanted to deal with me?” Tyler asked. He knew that he could be high maintenance when he was having bad days. Jordie had been so doting too, he knew he was being a distraction. He pulled his hand away from Jordie’s. “You don’t have to take care of me because you feel guilty.”

 

“No,” Jordie said. “I’m taking care of you because I like you. I’ve liked you forever. I just...couldn’t stand to walk away from you the other night when you were crying. It just wasn’t an option for me. It has nothing to do with me feeling guilty, and everything to do with the fact that I just wanted to see you smile. I want to see you smile.” Jordie took his hand back carefully, and Tyler let him. He had to remind himself that he didn’t have to be so protective about his feelings all the time.

 

By the time they got back to Jordie’s apartment, Tyler felt like he had probably overstayed his welcome. He didn’t really leave the welcome mat when they got back, and Jordie paused, as he got food out for Juice. “You’re not leaving are you?”

 

“Homework,” Tyler said. He’d love to stay all afternoon and into the evening, but he really did have homework. And also wanted to give Jordie the chance to have some time on his own.

 

“I have homework too,” Jordie said. “Would you want to go to the library maybe?”

 

And that’s how Tyler ended up in the basement of the library, at the table Jordie introduced as “his favorite” because it was so close to the bathrooms. There were four chairs at the table, but Jordie sat down next to Tyler and plugged his computer into the row of outlets that ran down the center of the table. Tyler handed over the plug end of his charger when Jordie held his hand out for it, and it felt comfortable to be here with him, even if he was a little anxious about Jordie reading a terrible draft of his thesis over his shoulder.

 

Jordie seemed pretty absorbed in his own work though, and Tyler watched him cycle through different books, notebooks, and word documents, as he crossed items off his list on a crumpled post-it. Tyler spent more time thinking about the warmth that radiated off of Jordie’s arm than about what he was supposed to be working on, though.

 

He still had that weight on his chest that made it hard to breathe. He knew that his advisor was treating him very kindly, but he still wanted to prove that he was good enough for this. Good enough to get his degree on his own merits, and not to have their pity affect the way they looked at him.

 

Tyler knew that he should be grateful for their understanding, but every time he asked for an extension, or skipped class because he couldn’t pull himself out of bed, he felt like a waste of space. There was some other kid out there who would be flourishing in the spot he had, in the small department that only took so many applicants each year, because they had limited resources to begin with.

  
There was always the creeping fear that he wouldn’t be able to, you know, be a person after he graduated. He had existed in a forgiving academic world for so long, but that wouldn’t last. He knew that when he got out into the real world that expectations would be different. He’d lost jobs already for calling in too many times, or just not showing up. He didn’t know what he would do when that job was his lifeline. Was the thing paying for the roof over his head and his student loans.

 

Jordie shifted in the seat next to Tyler, sliding down to rest his head on Tyler’s shoulder. “I’m getting sleepy,” Jordie admitted, reaching out to close his computer. “How’s your stuff coming?”

 

“Great,” Tyler lied. “I got a lot done.”

“You’d tell me if I’m distracting, right? I should have let you do your homework on your own, I’m really sorry if you didn’t get as much done as you would have liked.” Jordie was a sweet, sweet boy. And truthfully, Tyler got more done tonight than he would have if he’d just gone home, which is what he’d been planning initially. He wasn’t actually going to go do any homework.

 

“You’re less distracting than...” Tyler started, but couldn’t finish. Less distracting than falling down a thought-spiral of worry, feeling it crank his insides tighter and tighter until his blood was so prickly it felt like it would snap.

 

“Than some other shit,” Jordie said, knowingly. He nodded as he sat back up in his chair to pack his backpack up. When he unplugged Tyler’s computer, he wrapped the cord up nicely for him and everything.

 

-

 

On good days, Tyler could barely remember what it feels like to be at the bottom. His heart feels like it’s beating at a normal pace. He can look at a list of tasks and then complete them. He usually saves his laundry for good days.

 

Tyler feels almost embarrassed for the way he and Jordie started hanging out, on his first good day. He doesn’t want anyone to think he needs coddling or special treatment. But also, why would he complain about Jordie making the grounds crew schedule so they’re on the same flower planting shift together?

 

“Do I need to ask you on an official date?” Jordie asks casually, handing a little flower plant that he carefully just squeezed out of the thin black plastic container they came in. He and Jordie had been slightly inseparable over the course of the last week and a half. Tyler was not mad about it.

 

“Is this the ‘define the relationship conversation? The DTRC?” Tyler tried to keep his fucking cool about it but jesus, no one Officially Dates anymore. It seems like everyone is just “hooking up” or “hanging out.” The thought of making it official made his heart beat double time in the best way.

 

“I guess so. I just didn’t know if you knew that I feel, I don’t know, that I like you.” Jordie was already ginger, freckled, fair skinned, and a little sunburnt, but still he turned just the slightest bit pinker.

 

“I’d like to go on an official date. Or be officially dating. Or both,” Tyler said. He’d placed his own little flower plant in a hole he’d dug, and he used his gloved hands to gather the dirt he’d excavated up around it to a little mound, and gave it a firm press down. The flowers were, of course, school colors: black, green, and white.

 

“Then let me take you out to dinner, Ty,” Jordie said. Even though Tyler could sense Jordie’s insecurity about how Tyler would respond to his formality, he still seemed so confident. Jordie had this air of responsibility and maturity that made him come off as having his shit together, and that was both incredibly attractive as well as intimidating.

 

Still, there was nothing Tyler wanted more than to go to dinner with Jordie. “I would love that,” he responded, and Jordie gave him a small, almost shy smile that Tyler hadn’t yet seen on his easily-happy face. Like that smile was just for him.

 

“Let’s do Friday,” Jordie said, which gave Tyler two days to look forward to it. He agreed.

 

\---

 

When Friday came, Tyler woke up in a fog. His roommate was already up and gone. He had no idea how Jeremy existed, but it didn’t resemble the existence of a normal person. Tyler looked at his phone. Nine in the morning. He got to sleep in because he didn’t have a lawn mowing shift.

 

He thought about his schedule for the day, starting with the first task of getting out of bed, taking a shower, brushing his teeth. His body felt too heavy to lift out of his bed, let alone into the shower. Then he’d actually have to take the shower. Then he’d be wet, and he’d need to dry off, and pick out clothes, and put them on his body. Then brush his teeth. All before his class at 10.

 

When he was feeling good, he could do all of these tasks in fifteen minutes. When he was struggling a little, he could get it done in a half hour. But that morning, he wasn’t feeling good. He wasn’t struggling. He was buried under six feet of dirt, and he didn’t even want to claw his way out. He just wanted to settle into the cradle of it. 

 

His Friday morning class was his literature class that went over his head anyway. He hadn’t done the reading for it, of course. So he just flipped his alarm off and went back to bed. His next class wasn’t until one. He’d reevaluate then.

 

When he woke up again, it was eleven thirty. He was feeling a little better. Some days he just needed a little more sleep. He got out of bed to pee, but crawled back into it to dick around on his phone for a little bit before facing the world.

 

As he was scrolling Instagram, he got a text from Jordie. _So excited for tonight :)_

 

Jordie never used emojis, but he did add the occasional emoticon, which Tyler thought was very Jordie. He still managed to keep his excitement somewhat calm and serious.

 

Tyler was excited too, but he was also feeling a little paralyzed by the thought. Having to clean up, and look nice, and be good company on a date felt like too much mental energy.

 

_You don’t have class right now, right? I’m on campus. Wanna hang?_

 

Tyler didn’t know how to respond. Usually, he was rapid-fire with text messages. But he felt like something was caught in his throat.

 

 _Feeling shitty. Still in my room._ Tyler texted back. Jordie had never been to Tyler’s dorm before. Seemed a little stupid when Jordie had an apartment of his own, especially when taking Juice into consideration.

 

_Can I help? Can I bring you anything?_

 

_Can I see you?_

 

Tyler knew that Jordie had the best intentions. He knew Jordie only made things better. He took a breath and said yes, texting Jordie his dorm room number. Then he got out of bed and brushed his teeth.

 

When Jordie knocked on his door, Tyler was sitting on the futon in his room, fidgeting with the corner of a blanket that lived on the futon. Jordie closed the door behind him but stayed by it, put his hands in his pockets. He was waiting to be invited into the space. He held out a Gatorade he’d grabbed by the vending machine in the lobby of Tyler’s dorm, and that small caring gesture made Tyler lose it, tears sprouting from nowhere, because on days like that he was never far away from tears. Because on days like that, no one made an effort to make him smile the way Jordie did. 

 

Jordie was by his side in a second, setting the Gatorade on the floor as he settled next to Tyler on the futon and pulled Tyler into his arms. Tyler wasn’t sure if he was 100% gay, or maybe a little bi, but in that moment he never wanted to be anywhere than in a burly man’s arms, because holy shit was that comforting.

 

“I’m sorry you’re having a bad day,” Jordie whispered, as Tyler tucked himself against Jordie’s chest. He knew Jordie wasn’t there to save him. He didn’t need to be saved. But it was nice to have someone there, regardless. Someone who didn’t badger him with questions about _why_ he was sad, and what caused it. Tyler hated those questions.

 

They stayed like that until Tyler’s leg started to ache from the way they were pressed together. “Shit, this is so comfortable and so uncomfortable at the same time,” Tyler said, and Jordie laughed.

 

“Do you want to lay down? Watch a movie?” Jordie asked. And yes. That was exactly what Tyler wanted to do. They got up, and Tyler straightened out the blankets and pillows on his bed, and Jordie slipped his shoes off.

 

“Jeans off, or is that weird?” Jordie asked carefully. Tyler was still in his flannel sleep pants and the idea of cuddling Jordie with Jeans on didn’t have the same cozy air that he wanted.

 

“Off is fine,” he said. He queued up Stranger Things on the TV, since that was his current comfort food show, and Jordie climbed into his bed.

 

Tyler was a senior in college, and slept in the bottom bunk of a bunk bed, because there literally was not enough space for them not to bunk their beds. But Jordie didn’t comment on it. Just held the blanket up so Tyler could slide in with him. Carefully, Jordie encouraged him to slide back against him, to settle against Jordie’s warm body.

 

With Jordie’s arms around him and a TV show he’d watched roughly the times on, he felt warm and safe. Not good exactly. It was hard to explain how you could be happy but still feel crushed under the weight of your own anxiety and depression. But it felt like warmth and comfort tangled with unnameable dread, woven into a fabric that was either weighing him down or anchoring him. It was so hard to tell some days.

 

Jordie gave him a little squeeze, and Tyler pulled himself out of the swirl of his thoughts for a moment. “Thanks for being here,” he said.

 

“Of course. There’s nowhere I’d rather be,” Jordie said. He paused. “I was thinking. Maybe we postpone tonight.”

 

Tyler let out a breath. He hated that the idea of postponing felt like a relief. “It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with you,” Tyler said. “Obviously I want to spend time with you.”

 

“I get it. You don’t have to try to explain it to me.” The words ‘you don’t have to try to explain it to me’ were worth their weight in gold. Tyler felt like he was constantly trying to explain himself to everyone around him. What Jordie was giving him was freedom.

 

Tyler shifted, flipping over in Jordie’s arms so he could burrow into him. Jordie just held him closer, dropped a kiss on the crown of his head, like it was nothing. Like navigating a bad day with Tyler wasn’t something that cost him anything. Tyler wondered if Jordie had class now, or soon, but he didn’t want to ask him. Didn’t want to remind him, because he never wanted that moment to end.

 

\---

 

Tyler dreaded the conversation he had to have with his advisor the following Tuesday enough for it to ruin his whole weekend. He managed to grind out a paper and his part of a group project by locking himself in his dorm room all Saturday, only leaving to go on a walk with Jordie and Juice, but he let his dread consume him. Dread was one of the worst human emotions, the converse of excitement.

 

But he left the meeting feeling lighter, knowing that he was easily on the path for graduating on time. He had spent the first half of the semester focused so much on his failures and shortcomings that he hadn’t been acknowledging the good that he’d been doing so far.

 

At the end of the meeting, his advisor very quietly mentioned that when she was an undergrad she’d had a particularly bad bout of depression that almost caused her to drop out, and reminded him about the campus counselors. Tyler had totally forgot about them. She gave him a hug and encouraged him to make an appointment.

 

Tyler thought that he would, actually.

 

He left the Sociology department and headed into the quad, dialed Jordie’s number as he pointed himself toward his dorm room again. Jordie picked up on the first ring.

 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, voice easy over the phone. Tyler was constantly surprised at how easy it was to be around Jordie, to be with Jordie. Everything else in his life was so much effort, but even when Tyler was putting work into whatever they were doing together (officially dating, they’d decided), Jordie made him feel like it wasn’t anything at all.

 

“I’d like to try that date tonight,” Tyler said, recognizing how good things felt, like the building blocks he was setting down were settled on a foundation, instead of the point of a needle. Noticing when he felt good was a primary coping skill.

 

“I would love that,” Jordie said. “Pick you up at six?”

 

Tyler bit his lip. He wasn’t sure he’d ever dated someone like Jordie before. Even hearing his voice gave him butterflies. Framing any of their time spent together as a date made it feel special and heightened. “Six is perfect.”

 

\---

 

Jordie showed up at the front door of Tyler’s building in a button-up shirt, holding a single rose in his hand. He’d done something with his hair, tried to slick it back a little bit. He had dress shoes on, which Tyler didn’t even know Jordie owned.

 

Tyler liked to dress up. He had a vest on over his own collared shirt, and shoes that his mom bought him for the job interviews he'd be going on eventually.

 

Jordie’s eyebrows shot up when he saw Tyler. “Shit, you’re beautiful,” he said, hands finding Tyler’s waist. Jordie kissed him, so soft and sweet, and gave Tyler the rose.

 

“I don’t think anyone’s ever given me flowers before,” Tyler said honestly. They walked to Jordie’s car, and Jordie held the door open for him.

 

“I like the gentleman thing, you know?” Jordie said.

 

“I’ve noticed,” Tyler said, smiling. It felt so good to smile. To feel the lightness of a genuine smile on his face, there because he can’t help but to smile, and not because he’s forcing it to make someone else feel more comfortable.

 

He felt comfortable being sad around Jordie, but he also felt comfortable being happy. He didn’t think he felt that way about anyone outside of his family. Not since he left high school and grew apart from his best friends in college. Tyler was a social guy and had friends he could spend time with, but he didn’t have the same kinds of deep friendships he’d had in high school. Not until Jordie.

 

“You like Italian, right?” Jordie asked him, as they drove away from campus.

 

“Very much yes,” Tyler said as he fiddled with the radio. Tyler was constantly seeking a better song to listen to, and Jordie let him fuck around with the dial.

 

The restaurant Jordie took him to was a tiny little hole-in-the-wall with plaid tablecloths. They drank wine and ate pasta. Jordie ordered chocolate cake at the end which they fought over, forks clinking against each other. Jordie kept scooting his chair closer and closer to Tyler. Tyler could feel their connection like a physical, tangible presence in the room. It was almost scary, how big his feelings for Jordie were already.

 

Jordie held his hand on the ride home, and when they approached campus, Jordie bumped the radio off. “You want me to drop you off at your dorm, or do you want to maybe come back with me? See Juice and stuff.”

 

Tyler was hoping that ‘and stuff’ had something to do with Jordie’s bed. “I’d like to see Juice.”

 

Jordie kept his eyes on the road, but Tyler watched his eyes crinkle into a smile, the corner of his mouth curl up. Tyler wanted to kiss every single one of the freckles on his cheeks.

 

Going back to Jordie’s house felt just a little bit like coming home. Or at least going to someone’s home. Tyler had been living in a sterile dorm room for four years. Jordie’s apartment just felt warm and friendly, like Jordie himself. Juice gave him kisses, and Tyler spent a nice quiet ten minutes to himself on Jordie’s couch while he took Juice out.

 

When Jordie and Juice got back, Jordie reached a hand out for one of Tyler’s, and pulled him up from his spot on the couch. He wrapped his arms around Tyler’s waist and pulled him close. Tyler’s hands found the back of Jordie’s neck, and suddenly they were very close together.

 

“Tonight has been so good,” Jordie told him, resting his forehead against Tyler’s. It was almost weird to see Jordie without a baseball cap on, slightly more formal than Tyler was able to conjure up in his own mind. Tyler agreed, nodding just slightly before pressing in to kiss Jordie.

 

Jordie hadn’t initiated many kisses so far, letting Tyler take the reins. But once they were kissing, Jordie didn’t hold back. Jordie kissed him in a way that made Tyler feel like he was really paying attention.

 

“Tonight has been so good,” Tyler agreed, pulling away a little bit. “But not every day is for me.”

 

“You keep saying things like that like you think it’s going to be a deal breaker for me. Ty. I like you. All of you. Good days and bad. No deal breakers.”

 

On a rougher day, that may have mad Tyler cry, even though Jordie was saying was objectively good and nice. It was just so _much_. But it was a strong day, so instead of crumbling under the weight of that statement, Tyler just kissed him again.

 

“Fuck, I like you,” he said, barely far enough away from Jordie’s lips to be technically not kissing any longer. He took a deep breath, and dragged Jordie into his bedroom.

 

Jordie’s bedroom was as microscopic as Tyler thought it would be, with a queen-sized bed pressed up against a wall, and just enough space left over for a side table and a foot or two of space in front of the closet. The closet itself didn’t have doors, but Jordie was apparently a neat young man, dirty clothes in a hamper, clean clothes hung up or folded. Nothing on the floor but Juice’s bed in the corner.  

 

Tyler sat at the edge of his bed, tentatively, unable to keep the smile off his face. “I don’t know what I would have done in the past few weeks if you didn’t find me that night,” Tyler said. He grabbed one of Jordie’s hands, just to hold, just to feel close to him.

 

Jordie nudged him onto his back, had him scoot up on the bed so he was laying the right way on it, and crawled up over him. He was warm and heavy as he settled on Tyler, pressed a kiss to his lips. “You would have been just fine. You’re strong,” he said. Tyler knew that was true. He knew he’d be okay without Jordie.

 

“But it’s nicer to have someone to weather the storm with,” Tyler said, and Jordie nodded, pressing kisses to the corner of his mouth, his jaw, his throat, down his neck and to his collarbone.

 

Jordie sat back enough to pull his shirt over his head, and Tyler’s hands found his skin immediately, running his hands up from Jordie’s tight stomach up to his ribs. Jordie’s skin was a splotchy red blush that ended just under his collarbone, and Tyler traced the fault line with a fingertip.

 

“Hate being ginger,” Jordie mumbled, tugging at the hem of Tyler’s shirt as a hint. Tyler pulled it off, feeling bad when he tossed it on Jordie’s tidy floor. Jordie was embarrassed, but he wasn’t letting it stop him from doing what he wanted, from getting what he wanted. Tyler thought that was strength. Pushing through your negative emotions to get to the other side.

 

“It’s sexy,” Tyler said, ducking his head to press a kiss to the spot his fingertips were tracing. “It’s part of you.”

 

Jordie paused, taking in a shaky breath. “So you get it now. It’s part of you. And I like all of you.”

 

Tyler rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay,” he said, pulling Jordie back down to keep kissing him. Tyler lost time as they kissed. It felt like no time at all, but then his bedtime alarm went off in his pocket and scared the shit out of him.

 

“You need to get that?” Jordie asked when he pulled away, eyes unfocused, looking wrecked. Tyler was sure that’s how he felt too. Tyler thought that all of college was just people fucking each other, but Jordie didn’t make any moves to do anything more than kiss, and in that moment, that’s what Tyler wanted. To maybe take things a little slow.

“Just my bedtime alarm,” Tyler explained. “Sleep is...fragile for me sometimes. Good to be on a schedule.”

 

“I get it,” he untangled himself from Tyler, and Tyler hated how cold he felt without Jordie on him. He wanted to pull him back, but he also needed a moment. “Um, you could sleep here if you wanted. Or I can take you back. Just, um, let me know?”

 

Jordie looked bashful, one hand on the back of his neck, the blush rising again on his cheeks, neck, and chest.

 

“I’d like to stay,” Tyler said, and Jordie beamed at him.

 

This time when they got ready, Tyler watched as Jordie pulled sleep clothes for him out of the closet. Jordie still had the toothbrush Tyler had used a couple weeks ago. He found an extra phone charger for Tyler and plugged it in so their phones could charge next to each other on the nightstand.

 

When Jordie came back from letting Juice out, Tyler was already curled up in bed, and he watched Jordie’s face soften completely as he took in the sight of Tyler there, in his bed.

 

Jordie pulled off this shirt he’d worn for Juice’s quick walk, and slid under the covers with him, no pretense of the two of them not cuddling as he pulled Tyler close to him immediately, tucking his head under his chin. Tyler yawned against his chest, tangled their legs together. Tyler listened to Juice curl up on his own bed and get cozy.

 

“I’m not kicking him out of his rightful place, am I?” Tyler asked.

 

“Juice likes his own bed,” Jordie said, shrugging. Tyler was relieved hearing that. He wasn’t there to break up a family.

 

“I think I’m going to maybe go to the school counselor,” Tyler said, seemingly out of nowhere. He hadn’t realized he’d been thinking about it so much, but apparently, it had been bubbling in the back of his mind. The room was dark, and it felt safe to be there, with Jordie and his dog and no one else. It felt safe to say things like that out loud. 

 

“I think that sounds awesome,” Jordie said. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to support you in that.”

 

“You’re too fucking nice, Jordie Benn,” Tyler said, trying to keep himself from telling Jordie he loved him this soon after they started dating.

 

Jordie laughed and pressed a kiss to his head. “As long as you understand that you deserve for someone to be nice to you.”

 

“Yeah,” Tyler said. “Maybe you’re right.” Maybe he did deserve someone to be nice to him. Maybe he did deserve some happiness. And on strong days when he felt good, he could really believe those things.

 

\---

 

When Tyler woke up in the morning, Jordie was pressed close to him still, and Tyler still felt light and wonderful and good. He had things to do that day, like work on his thesis, do laundry, and make an appointment with a counselor. And a doctor, while he's at it. Talk about getting back on his meds. It was going to be a good day.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr at thewestishharpooners if you wanna come say hi :)


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